


Initiation

by cocaptainrodimus (wellisntthatshiny)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gladiator fighting, Medical Kink, Other, PNP, Pain Kink, Sticky, a little bit of blood and maybe body horror, seems extreme but I’ll tag it jic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 22:13:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellisntthatshiny/pseuds/cocaptainrodimus
Summary: The gladiator pits require new medics to participate in a single match against one of their professional fighters. Honestly I just wanted to write how two of my ocs meet. They fight, they fuck, there’s medical kink and weird body parts involved.





	Initiation

**Author's Note:**

> Nyx is a cold constructed, massive cargo plane trained as a surgeon. His glossa is made up of dozens of cables that are several feet long and tipped with various interfacing equipment, primarily intended for medical use.
> 
> Rigmount is an even bigger crane, formerly a construction worker who now fights in the pre-war gladiator pits. 
> 
> Important note: while the fight has intentional moments of stress, everything depicted here is very much consensual.

_Stand up straight, use your size to your advantage. This isn’t a real fight just a formality; they need medics they won’t hurt you too bad._

Nyx’s optics flash around the arena, loud jeers echoing in the suddenly far too small space. The floor -if you could call the dirty, pit marked surface a floor- was stained with dried energon and scraps of metal in bright paint jobs. _I think I know that guy_ pops into his mind unbidden as a particular shade of red with gaudily ornate detailing catches his optic.

The jeers turn to pounding legstruts and clapping hands as Nyx’s opponent strides confidently through the gathered crowd to the shoddily constructed ring. The sound bounces from the high ceilings of the abandoned warehouse that is tonight’s makeshift stadium and Nyx can’t help but wonder which cop is being paid off to ignore the noise.

Almost reluctantly he looks up to see the mech -Rigmount if the crowd’s screams could be trusted- hop easily over the makeshift barrier of thick metal sheets as battered and stained as the floor.

_Primus, he’s huge what the frag am I doing here._

The mech flashes a wide grin at the crowd, playing up the audience despite it being a closed show. He’s showboating and the crowd is eating it up.

“Tonight isn’t a performance,” Nyx had been told. “Wouldn’t want everyone too worked up. It will just be gladiators, medics, you know, the people who run the pits.”

_Not a performance my aft._ The mech continues to wave at the crowd, turning to fist bump a mech standing just behind him. Nyx inspects the frame in front of him. He’s big, boxy, some sort of construction mech, forged if Nyx’s assessment of his material components is correct. His legs are solid, sturdy and thick with heavy treads along the sides. His arms are a tarnished, dark metal lattice forming what must be a crane in his alt mode. His left hand easily dwarfs Nyx’s and his right arm ends in a jackhammer stained with not yet dry energon. The tool is clearly modified and the tip is sharp enough to be deadly even without the serrated edges. Nyx can’t help but wince and hope the mech is smart enough not to use it on the mech who will be repairing him afterwards.

One fight. All the medics have to do it. One on one, no weapons, no death. Medics other than the one in the ring are banned from repairing the gladiator- some kind of attempt at keeping the professional fighters from tearing their weaker opponents into pieces. Nyx shudders at what must have happened to instill that particular rule, his eye drifting to an even larger blue mech in the corner. Could be worse.

Rigmount finally turns down the grandstanding and turns to face Nyx, grin still wide on his face. “Welcome to the team, doc.” The tone is warm, friendly even.

“Uh, thanks?” Nyx can’t help the question creeping into his tone.

Rigmount laughs at that, the rest of the crowd following suit. One mech leans over the edge and shouts

“C’mon Rigmount! Beat his aft already!”

Nyx barely catches a glimpse of Rigmount’s almost apologetic look before the mech’s enormous fist smashes into his faceplate sending him reeling to the ground.

The crowd goes absolutely wild, all the mechs now screaming for blood. Nyx can’t distinguish the voices with the way his audials are ringing and he barely hears Rigmount say “Gotta give the people what they want,” as the mech takes a single stride towards him.

Nyx manages to roll out of the way of the incoming punch and Rigmount’s hand slams into the ground with a cloud of dust. Nyx takes the opportunity to get back to his feet and tries to scuttle back as the mech hits him squarely in the gut.

He intakes sharply as he feels but can’t quite hear the glass of his cockpit crack. The noise of the crowd is overwhelming, and his hud pops up with an emergency message detailing the new damage. Nyx frantically tries to dismiss the notification as Rigmount grabs him by the throat and lift him from the ground. He struggles with Rigmount’s single hand as more notifications ping his system- dented ventilation systems and energon leaks among the top priorities. He crowd is still roaring in his ears, jeering and shouting and he can’t think. Panicked, he tries to scan his diagnostics and shuts down his audials.

The din of shouting as Rigmount holds him up to the crowd is gone. Nyx intakes deeply as he clears the notifications and takes a good look down at the mech holding him aloft. _Solid body, but not the arms._ He focuses his optics on the shoulder joint, and finds what he’s looking for. He clicks his audials back on in in time to hear the crowd gasp as Nyx kicks hard at the poorly soldered weld in Rigmount’s shoulder. The repair snaps and Rigmount screams as Nyx’s weight begins to bend the remaining metal out of place. Nyx barely lands on his feet as Rigmount drops him, looking in shock at his out of place arm.

“Nice one, doc,” he grins, already regaining his composure. “Wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

Nyx can feel a matching smile split his face, fangs on display. He doesn’t hesitate as he lunges forward and grabs hold of the tearing metal and yanks it sharply from Rigmount’s body. The limb snaps cleanly and Nyx hears a hitched breath from the mech’s vents alongside the shout of pain.

Nyx doesn’t have long to think on it as Rigmount kicks out, flinging Nyx into the wall of the arena. The metal crumbles under his weight and he finds himself stunned on the ground, hand still clutching Rigmount’s severed arm. The blue frame looms over him, blocking out the harsh overhead lighting in a wall of shadow. Sparks fly from the severed cables in his shoulder and energon drips down his frame and onto Nyx as Rigmount leans down towards him.

“You only get one free hit, doc.” The words are a bit ragged in his throat, but the mech’s optics are bright and focused and he still has a grin on his face. _He’s enjoying this._

The realization sparks an idea. Nyx pushes himself to his feet, and flicks away the notification that his left legstrut isn’t functioning with full range of motion. Rigmount watches his every movement, optics glued to the damaged leg.

Nyx waits for the mech to meet his gaze before winking at him. “One for one seems fair enough.”

The gladiator pounces at his leg and Nyx easily avoids the obvious blow. Rigmount crashes into the wall and Nyx takes the opportunity to grab at his back plating and pull. It will hurt, but it will also be an easy repair. Rigmount shouts, but arches towards the distended metal rather than tugging away. Nyx digs practiced fingers in farther as the plating bends and he gently caresses the sensitive wiring.

“Careful, now,” he says, voice low enough that only Rigmount could possibly hear over the din of thr crowd. He traces along the cables and feels Rigmount shudder beneath him as he taps a particularly delicate cluster of nodes. “Sensory systems are my specialty.”

Rigmount jerks forward and shoves himself against the wall, flinging himself back and taking Nyx with him. The two clang to the ground and Nyx feels the crack in his cockpit give way under Rigmount’s weight. The glass shatters, large pink shards digging into both their frames as Rigmount scrambles to turn over and pin Nyx to the ground. Nyx tries to roll away, but the gldiator has height, weight, and experience on his side. Fear flashes through him as he realizes he can’t move at all.

Rigmount has a secure hold, jackhammer arm easily pinning Nyx’s hands above his head while his legs lock down the flyer’s knees. The mech is solid and heavy above him and Nyx can hear the squeal of the metal in his legs bending even over the ecstatic crowd.

“Yield,” the voice growls above him.

Nyx’s optics flick towards the crowd calling for his defeat. Their faces are bloodthirsty but satisfied, assured of the outcome of the fight. A few mechs are already beginning to drift away, heading to get the next pair ready.

“C’mon mech, don’t make me hurt you too bad,”. Rigmount revs the engine of the jackhammer, the vibration rattling through Nyx’s arms. Nyx grits his dentae and looks back at the mech, about to surrender when he sees his chance. There on the back of Rigmount’s neck where Nyx had ripped away the plating was an exposed diagnostic port.

Rigmount sighs as Nyx doesn’t respond and grinds his knees down into Nyx’s protesting legs.

“Yield.”

“No.”

Nyx opens his mouth and flicks a slender cable of his glossa towards the port. Practiced movements have him hooked in and accessing Rigmount’s systems before the mech even knows what is happening. Confused shouts erupt from the crowd as Rigmount suddenly goes limp with a confused grunt and falls off Nyx’s frame.

Nyx disconnects from Rigmount and spools the cable back into his mouth, licking away the smear of energon on his lip. He rises to his feet, flinching as a wing protests behind him and his legs barely manage the few steps over to Rigmount’s still frame.

“I warned you to be careful, darling.” Nyx relishes the silence from the crowd of mechs now hanging on his words. “I can revoke the medical override on your frame whenever you concede the fight.”

He bends over the mech’s frame, this time making a show of slowly unspooling the cable from his mouth and wrapping it around the back of Rigmount’s exposed neck. The crowd picks back up again, screams now largely in Nyx’s favor. He slides the cable into Rigmount’s port with a soft click, data from Rigmount’s frame flashing in front of his optics.

“Well? Everyone is waiting.”

Nyx knows it’s simply a projection of his imagination, but he swears he can see the moment defeat registers in Rigmount’s optics.

“Not bad, doc. Remind me not to go easy on you next time.” Rigmount vocalizes a sigh and continues, “Alright, alright you win. Now let me up so we can both get repaired.”

Nyx obliges, deactivating the override and copying a quick scan of Rigmount’s damage before slipping the cable from the mech’s port. He’s vaguely aware of the noise of the announcer and suddenly his hand is being raised into the air in triumph.

The motion sends him off balance and he nearly tumbles to the ground as his legstruts fail to respond the way he’d like. Rigmount, now on his feet, grabs Nyx by the waist and steadies him.

“You good, doc?”

Nyx tries to smile but winces as his own injuries flash to the forefront now that he’s out of combat. “Wouldn’t mind a hand- er.” He winces and glances around spotting Rigmount’s arm lying in the debris of the arena’s walls.

Rigmount lets out a hearty laugh “That thing has been on and off more times than I can count. C’mon, you grab my arm and promise to weld it back together and I’ll let you lean on me while we limp back to the medic station.”

——————————-

“You can, uh, you can plug back in if that’s, y’know, easier for you.”

Nyx looks up from his inspection of the exposed cables of Rigmount’s neck in surprise. “I took a scan- it isn’t necessary if you don’t want me to-“

“It’s fine! I mean uh, yeah. Uh, anything you need from me is okay, doc.” Rigmount bends his helm further, giving Nyx what would be easy access to the port if it hadn’t already been exposed.

Nyx slides his cable back in, running a more thorough diagnostic scan and sending the data to the display screen in front of the medical slab.

“Woah.” Rigmount shifts forward a bit, peering at the numbers and outline of his frame on the screen.

Nyx peers from behind his shoulder, optics taking in the visual. “I see you have another diagnostic port in your hip- do you mind if I use that? Easier to work without my own cabling in the way.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah sure. Like I said, whatever helps.”

Nyx unspools his tongue’s cable further and dips into the gap in Rigmount’s hips. The data clicks out as he unhooks from Rigmount’s frame and he feels the mech slump in disappointment. He quickly navigates the tight space and hooks into the diagnostic port, data coming through clearly once more and Rigmount perks up as the figures pop back up on the screen. Nyx pauses, frowning at a spike in internal temperature. He checks the previous scan’s data to confirm- a definite increase in just a few moments.

Nothing has changed what- Oh. Nyx runs a gentle touch over the exposed cables of Rigmount’s neck, a thrill running through him at the brief flare of response from the mech’s systems. Good to know.

Nyx continues working, carefully checking over the cables to ensure there is no damage to the underlying structure. Rigmount begins to relax beneath the gentle touch, the mech’s optics focused ahead at the screen.

Once satisfied that he hadn’t done any damage besides the bent plating, Nyx picks up the heat torch from the cart of tools beside him. He places a hand gently over the affected plating, noting the way Rigmount leans back into the touch.

“I’m going to heat your plating here to help bend it back into shape. Don’t worry, I’ll dampen the sensors in that area so you won’t feel a thing. Just a bit of pressure and then it will be done.” Nyx watches the mech’s vitals carefully as he continues “Unless you prefer otherwise.”

Rigmount shifts beneath Nyx’s hand and the sharp rise in internal temperature and hitch in his intake is obvious now that he’s looking for it. Nyx’s own frame heats as the diagnostic scan pings a request to open Rigmount’s spike and valve panels.

“I thought as much.” Nyx allows the rest of his glossa cables to unspool and trace their way down Rigmount’s frame towards the offending panels. Nyx has to hold in a laugh as the panels slide open at the slightest tap from one of the strands. Rigmount groans loudly as his spike pressurizes up through the waiting cables. Nyx circles them around the spike, slowly tracing over the bright blue biolights inset on a thick shaft of dark grey ridges. The cables squeeze methodically, carefully testing every inch of the newly exposed spike. Nyx adjusts their movements as he carefully watches Rigmount’s vitals respond in the display screen, settling into a lazy pattern.

Rigmount is openly moaning, helm fallen back nearly onto Nyx’s hand as his ootics part from the screen for the first time since it turned on. “You’re going to kill me, doc.”

“Quite the opposite, actually.” Nyx separates one of the cables, optics bright as he watches Rigmount’s reaction. The thin, white strand snakes up to the tip of Rigmount’s spike, slowly dragging through the gathering transfluid until a significant length was coated. Rigmount’s helm snaps forward so quickly that Nyx is surprised the mech didn’t cause damage as he watches the cable with obvious interest.

Rigmount intakes sharply as the cable slowly enters the opening of his spike, the flexible material just barely pressing in before retreating once more. The mech leans as if to grip hard onto the med slab beneath him before realizing he doesn’t have the hand to do it. Nyx waits a moment but the raspy “Oh frag, do that again” is all the encouragement he needs to resume his efforts.

The rest of Nyx’s glossa holds the spike firmly in place, some of the cables acting as restraints while the remainder continue to pulse and writhe, eagerly drawing more transfluid. The cable slips back into Rigmount’s spike, this time easier even as the mech shakes beneath Nyx’s steady hand on his shoulder.

“Can’t have that,” Nyx murmurs into Rigmount’s audial. “I’m going to override some of your frame control so you don’t hurt yourself, alright? If you’re uncomfortable at any point you let me know and I’ll release you.”

“Oh frag, mech,” Rigmount gasps as his fans stutter and kick on higher, whining as they try to dispel heat from his bulky frame. “Do it. _Frag_ that’s hot, doc.”

“Good,” Nyx purrs, squeezing Rigmount’s shoulder as he systematically overrides the mech’s frame. Unlike the fight, he has time to slowly go through each system, ensuring Rigmount truly feels his frame giving up control. The mech whines as he loses the ability to move, but his vitals display nothing but signs of pleasure.

“Good mech, there you go,” Nyx encourages, pressing the cable further into Rigmount’s spike. Nyx moves his hand from the mech’s shoulder and gently pushes his helm further forward, tipping it so his chin is nearly on his chest. “A better view, don’t you think?”

The strained noise is confirmation enough and Nyx picks up the pace on Rigmount’s spike. The cable sounding him resumes motion, slowly dragging its way almost out before pressing back into the spike. Each time Nyx presses in a little deeper than before, a careful optic on Rigmount’s vitals. The mech is panting now, deep groans rumbling through his frame as heat continues to build. Nyx picks up the pace with the cables on the exterior of his spike and the cables that had previously been working as restraint dip down to slide over the glowing blue node at the top of Rigmount’s valve.

Rigmount moans as one cable stays at the node while the others move to the soft mesh of his valve. The thin cords tease at the opening before pressing in, hardly more than a finger’s width combined. Rigmount’s valve is wet and the calipers immediately try to cycle down on Nyx’s glossa. The cables provide little resistance and Rigmount whines until Nyx presses against the walls of his valve, cables seeking the sensitive nodes and focusing in on them with expert accuracy.

Nyx looks down the front of Rigmount’s frame with satisfaction, the mech’s near constant moans and hissing vents delightful markers of his attentions. He tears his optics from the sight of his cables on Rigmount’s spike and looks at the display screen. He notes Rigmount’s internal temperature with a pleased hum and clicks on the heat torch in his right hand. “Ready?”

Rigmount’s optics are glowing as he stutters out a “Y-yes.”

Nyx places his left hand on Rigmount’s shoulder and brings the torch in watching carefully as the metal heats. He keeps Rigmount’s vitals hovering in his display as he watches the blue metal begin to glow a soft red. Rigmount releases a long hiss of ventilation and moans at the sensation of the heat sinking into his frame. Nyx strokes the mech’s shoulder and continues with his glossa, eliciting another strained whine from Rigmount’s vocalizer. The metal of his bent frame starts to glow brighter and Nyx picks up the pace, watching as Rigmount’s vitals race towards overload. He sets down the torch and places one hand at the edge of the metal, just beyond the glow and begins to push.

Rigmount shouts, low and laced with static as he overloads, frame fighting the medical override for control. Nyx keeps him firmly in place, bending the back plating into its proper shape and trying to ignore his own panels’ response to the taste and feel of Rigmount’s overload. The cables of his glossa work the spike as it spasms, one of the few sensory systems still under Rigmount’s control and Rigmount’s valve spits static along the cables eagerly ministering to the overstimulated sensors. Rigmount half sobs as Nyx pours cool oil over his plating, the medic watching it hiss as it contacts the hot metal and helps harden it back to shape.

“You’re okay, Rigmount, I’ve got you.” Nyx strokes the mech’s shoulder soothingly as he focuses his attention on the mech’s spike. Rigmount’s spike is covered in his own transfluid and the thick liquid is pooling beneath him as it drips down his hips and past the cables in his valve onto the medical slab. Nyx slows the movements of his glossa and takes his time pulling the cable from inside Rigmount’s spike, the cables in the mech’s valve ghosting over sensors. The mech whimpers unable to do anything but watch as the cable slips out from the stretched opening.

“I’m going to return your frame to you now. You ready?”

“Mm- yeah.”

Nyx pulls his glossa from Rigmount’s valve but continues to lazily stroke his spike as the override is rescinded, watching as Rigmount starts to slump back. He catches the mech and helps lay him back on the table. Rigmount is biting his lip and his hips jerk up into Nyx’s glossa.

“You want more or are you done?”

Rigmount takes a long moment to respond, hips following the movement of Nyx’s glossa for another beat before reaching a decision. “I think I’m good, doc. That, uh, that’s really something else you’ve got there. Gimme a minute and I’ll return the favor.”

“As appealing as that sounds, I’m not sure how well my frame would hold up at the moment.” Nyx glances back at his wing and winces at its unnatural angle. “I’ll take you up on that offer another time.”

Rigmount laughs and gestures with his single arm to his missing limb “I know the feeling.”

Nyx retracts his glossa cables until only the one plugged into Rigmount’s diagnostic port remains. After a quick check to ensure the mech’s vitals are returning to normal he disconnects entirely and walks to the other side of the cramped makeshift clinic to grab cleaning rags.

Rigmount sighs contentedly as Nyx cleans him up, offlining his optics as he yawns. “I know we aren’t really supposed to recharge here but-“

“Shh, it’s fine. I’ll tell then it’s my fault if anyone gives you grief. Plus,” Nyx gestures across the room, before realizing Rigmount isn’t looking “I do still need to reattach your arm.”

“Promise you’ll wait ‘til I wake up?” Rigmount grins, a hint of flirtation in his voice.

“With the kind of performance you just gave, I wouldn’t do it any other way.” Nyx squeezes the mech’s shoulder, “Rest up, mech. I need some time to look at that arm anyway. I’ll figure something out to help keep it where it belongs this time.”

Rigmount lets out a loud snore in response and Nyx smirks at the enormous gladiator knocked out on the med slab, legs still hanging over the side. He pulls out a kit of tools and sits on the slab across the room, hooking his own data up to the display screen. He zooms in on his legstruts and begins dampening the sensors in the affected areas. He was going to have to fix these if he wanted to stand a chance at keeping up with Rigmount once the mech wakes up.


End file.
